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by Joy Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Poetry · Food/Cooking · #869427
A poem on food -for Slam
A simple woman with one syllable name,
more often than not,
I’m a guest at my own table,
but today has endless possibilities
since I am baking chocolate chip cookies
for “The Green Room,”
a posh corner on the cul-de-sac of life.

Don’t heap them too high,
don’t let them tumble,
don’t “slam” the pan too hard,
don’t let my cookies crumble.

Three cups flour, baking soda, salt,
vanilla, brown sugar, two eggs and chips,
butter, and nuts -optional-
for cookies a la kings and queens,
magnetic poetry in a cookie pan.
Bake at 375 for nine to eleven minutes,
faster than hasty pudding.

Don’t heap them too high,
don’t let them tumble,
don’t “slam” the pan too hard,
don’t let my cookies crumble.

Each cookie has magic, a wish-bone dream,
with a special curve against the tongue,
the soft part is in the middle like the heart,
a single motif smoothing into poetic fortune
to make memories that refuse oblivion.

Don’t heap them too high,
don’t let them tumble,
don’t “slam” the pan too hard,
don’t let my cookies crumble.


© Copyright 2004 Joy (joycag at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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